


Exchange

by wreathed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ambiguity, Ficlet, Incest, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The younger sibling waits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

“Do feel free to let yourself out,” Sherlock informs Mycroft, arch after waiting for so long in the living room for him to come back downstairs. Mycroft pauses, staying on the other side of the room to Sherlock. “I assume he’s asleep.”

The signs are there, but only if you’re searching for them. Clothes remain perfectly pressed – he must take time to fold them even when undressing for another, Sherlock realises, fastidious and languid and _ever_ so willing to make one wait – but there is the red remnent of a bite at the height of Mycroft’s collar.

It makes Sherlock jealous, that there is something John knows about Mycroft that Sherlock does not. Sherlock rarely tolerates those who know more than he does but refuse to share.

“You were such a difficult child,” Mycroft says, as if he’s trying to fool Sherlock into thinking he can read minds.

“But you, Mycroft, are being so difficult now. Leave me in peace, unless you’ve a case – a _good_ case. Seeing you traipse up to John’s room once a week as if you’ve got an _appointment_ with him disgusts me. Tell me, is John in your diary? Isn’t it awfully difficult, fitting him in between your meeting with the cabinet secretary and dinner with the Italian ambassador?”

“You like John,” Mycroft says, as if this answers Sherlock’s question.

“Not as much as you do,” Sherlock smirks cruelly. “If that’s what you’re suggesting. Oh, how I loathe seeing you this hypocrital.”

“Hypocricy, Sherlock?”

“Using John to get to me, yet keeping me a virgin. One woman that might have been good enough, and you ensured that she and I never–”

“Irene Adler never had the slightest sexual interest in you,” Mycroft scoffs, though with a new height to his voice. “And, Sherlock, I was keeping you _safe_.”

A look passes between them at this moment, a well-worn look from all their years together that says _let this subject go_ , and Mycroft acquiesces.

Sherlock feels a rush of insistent heat. He wants Mycroft to acquiesce other things.

“You can’t keep me untarnished forever,” Sherlock tells him. “And I would have thought that defiling me was, for once, a job you didn’t wanted to delgate.”

“Stop me from seeing your flatmate, and I shall have to.”

“I could have disobeyed you by now,” Sherlock says. “Easily. You wouldn’t even know.”

“But you haven’t,” Mycroft replies. “And believe me, I _would_ know. Tell me, what do you want from sex?”

“Whatever you want,” Sherlock sardonically replies.

“I don’t want you to be my whore, Sherlock. Sex is a reciprocal act. I need you to want things too. You could ask John–”

“I will _not_ ask John anything about you,” he interrupts, furious. “But if I let you keep seeing him...”

“Then one day, I’ll fuck you,” Mycroft murmurs lazily. “When you’re good and ready.”

Sherlock knows that Mycroft won’t have missed the way the words make his eyes stay closed for just a little too long. Lost, again.

Then, Mycroft leaves.

And Mycroft leaves Sherlock waiting.


End file.
